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Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Stopping to Smell the Roses

The roses are perfect. Big, fat, plump, and fragrant. Every time I walk past them, I stop and inhale their heady scent...it reminds me of when he and I first started dating. He would bring me flowers all the time. Funny thing is, I kept most of them for years and years, even through my first marriage! I have kept every letter, every card, every note that he has ever written to me. When he is gone and I am lonely, I pull them out sometimes and read them. They always make me feel better about his job and our long separations, especially one I call the "About Her" letter.

Not that I am any Abigail Adams, but she must have experienced the same kinds of emotions during her long years apart from John as he worked so tirelessly to build this country. I can picture her pulling out her stack of letters from him, pouring over them time and time again, carrying one of her favorites around in her apron pocket, re-reading it until it was smudged around the edges and she had read it so many times the words were as familiar to her as her own thoughts.